we walk as tall as the skyline
by quinnking
Summary: She holds Quinn close, allows her to cry into her neck, allows blood to stain her favourite leather jacket.


_you've got a fire inside, but your heart is so cold._

* * *

Quinn King hates feeling human. This, Rachel Goldberg knows. But as she holds the older woman in her arms, feels tears soaking in the collar of her jacket, smells the blood on her hand; she's _all_ too human.

Rachel doesn't say she loves Quinn back and that's okay because it wasn't the place to do it. So she tells Quinn she wants to take down Coleman, that she needs her. Because she does. And that's as good as a love confession, right? She holds Quinn close, allows her to cry into her neck, allows blood to stain her favourite leather jacket.

Time seems to stand still, Rachel doesn't know how long they stand there, gripping desperately at one another. She honestly couldn't care less, because Quinn always picks up Rachel when she breaks into pieces and now it's Rachel's turn to do the same for Quinn.

Rachel feels Quinn pull back, slightly, and Rachel can't help the clench of her fists at Quinn's top.

"I need to go home," Quinn says, her voice softer than Rachel has ever heard.

So, Rachel takes her other hand (the one that's not seeped in blood and cut up to shreds) and leads her outside. Everyone is gathered, she expected nothing less.

"Quinn -" Jay starts but retreats as soon as Rachel sends him a startling look.

Rachel notes that Coleman isn't there and she feels her whole body chill over for the briefest of moments until she looks at Quinn, who's tugging on her hand and pulling her toward her car.

"You're not driving," Rachel orders. "Do you really want blood on your steering wheel?"

Quinn gives her a dirty look, a sure sign that _maybe_ she's starting to feel more herself, but she concedes anyway.

Her place is just how Rachel remembers it and she brings Quinn into the master bathroom.

She strips Quinn bare. She doesn't say a word, neither of them do, doesn't do anything to stop Rachel from trailing her fingers down Quinn's cheek, to her neck. They stay firmly pressed on the skin there, against her pulse point where Rachel feels the steady _thump, thump, thump_ underneath.

Quinn turns then, turns on the shower and steps inside. Rachel counts to ten. Then twenty. She makes it to one hundred and thirty three when her resolve breaks and she strips down to nothing and steps in the shower behind Quinn.

The other woman has her hand braced on the wall in front of her, her head bowed and the water drenching her head. Rachel presses her whole body against Quinn's and kisses her once on the neck, just once, and gets Quinn's shampoo. Lathers it in, allowing the woman to close her eyes before she rinses it out. Does the same with conditioner, though she takes her time and massages her scalp a little. Quinn lets out a small mewl.

Rachel has to get out momentarily to search for Quinn's favourite body wash - it smells like lavender and it does remarkable things to her stress level. She drenches her hands in the soap before rubbing up Quinn's back, her hands gentle against soft skin. She practically melts into Rachel's hands, especially as she goes to her shoulders and digs the heel of her hand in to relieve tension.

Quinn turns around, faces Rachel and they're only a few inches apart. Rachel swallows because Quinn has never allowed this type of intimacy and all the time she's known her. She brings her hands to her sides, a soap trail being lead all the way up to her collarbones.

Rachel pushes Quinn back softly, until her back hits the wall underneath the showerhead, and she gets down onto her knees. She lifts one of Quinn's legs until it drapes over her shoulder and kisses the older woman's thigh. She looks up to see if Quinn is alright, if she's going too far, and green eyes meet brown.

Quinn nods and that's all Rachel needs. Her tongue flicks a few times experimentally against Quinn's clit before she swipes it against her opening. One of Quinn's hands goes into Rachel's hair, doesn't guide or push her, just lets it rest.

 _This must be what giving yourself to someone looks like for Quinn,_ Rachel idly thinks, before she decides that she doesn't want to tease Quinn. That she wants Quinn to have a release that she so clearly desperately needs. She sucks hard at Quinn's clit until the hand in Rachel's hair clenches into a fist and her hips cant upward, and a single cry leaves her mouth.

Her knees ache and her ear is full of water, but Quinn looks sated and tired and dreamy, and much better than she did earlier. She gets Quinn out of the shower and into a fluffy blue towel. She sits her down on the toilet and covers herself as well before going to find a first aid kit.

Rachel douses a cloth full of rubbing alcohol and cleans Quinn's hand wound, only getting a hiss of surprise from the older woman. She wraps it gently in gauze, her thumbnail scraping lightly over the tattoo on Quinn's wrist. The side of her mouth quirks up, only slightly. She hastily covers the other wound on her bicep, that one isn't as bad and doesn't need dressing.

"Come on," Rachel says, softly, bringing Quinn into her bedroom and flipping down the duvet. She gets Quinn in the sheets, in nothing but a towel. Quinn doesn't seem to mind.

Rachel stands there for a moment before bending and kissing Quinn on the forehead. It may be overkill but it seems right. She heads toward the door.

"Stay," Quinn says, quietly, but commanding.

Rachel does.


End file.
